Greatest NHL Hockey Story Ever Told

Arguably dated and decidedly worn, this timeless tale of NHL dirty is in desperate need of an update. Until then, the current version of this anonymously penned prose will have to suffice. Enjoy!

So our day begins at the golf course where I've been battling in the Lindy Ruff all day. We call it quits and head into the club house for some Bob Beers and some Kelly Buchbergers. After crushing many drinks we decided to hit the local night club to check out some Karl Dykhuis and some Joe Nieuwendykes.

I noticed that I was getting eyeballed by some Neil Sheehy and she had a bit of a Doug Weight problem. A real Jamie Macoun. I thought to myself, "I can't stoop this Patrick Marleau." But she wanted to take off and I wasn't sticking around for the ugly lights to come on, so I paid the Rick Tabaracci and we hopped in a Tomas Kaberle.

I took her back to my Phil Housley where things got a little hot and steamy. She geared down and not to my surprise her Kari Takko was a bit Joe Reekie and Jason Woolley. I decided she needed a Bill Barber, pulled out my Donald Brashears and shaved her hair diaper down to the Randy Wood. She then proceeded to trim my Harry Snepsts and the bush around my Pekka Rautakallio.

I reacted quickly and popped her Don Cherry but she was too Ken Dryden. So I flipped her over, grabbed my Hakan Loob, and threw it in her Curtis Brown with no Tie Domi. After a few pumps she started to complain that she was too Marty McSorley to go on. So I snapped and quickly showed her to the Darryl Sydor and told her maybe I'll call her Brenden Morrow. Needless to say she was Grant Fuhrious.

The next morning I had the worst Daren Puppa and I was Valeri Zelepukin all day. Anyways two weeks later I noticed a Travis Green drip oozing from my Mike Babcock. So I booked an appointment with Dr. Randy Gregg and got a Corey Schwab. But that isn't the end of the story.

A month later I woke up and saw Garth Snow outside. The weather man said it was going to be a 30% chance of a Theo Fleury. My car wouldn't start so I had to borrow my roommate's ride. It's not as Chris Osgood as mine and it takes a Roberto Luongo time to start but I was stuck.

When I went in his room to get the keys there was that same Rick Brodsky with my roommate. She was sucking on his Mike Peca while Esa Tikkanen his temperature with her finger. I said, "Buddy, don't do it! That Butch Goring has the fans clapping. I think she picked it up in Paul Kariya." But he wouldn't listen to Marty Reasoner. Finally I said "Keep up the Manny Legace" and ran out.